Welcome Back, Sherlock
by XCastielXNovakX
Summary: There is a mass murderer killing people with shady pasts. Sherlock makes his return to London and he and his blogger, John Watson, return to Baker Street to crack the case together just like old times. But they both seem... off. This may be the case that either breaks their friendship or makes them something more. Johnlock. Mary is in it but as John's close friend. M for later.


"There is a mass murderer on the loose in London, the police are – as usual – out of their depth. The holiday is over, time to come home, brother mine." Mycroft let go of Sherlock's long, messy, black curls and stepped back.

"Back to Baker Street."

Sherlock couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips as Mycroft unchained his arms and he unintentionally slumped into his older brother's arms. His legs had apparently failed him as Mycroft let out an annoyed grunt and helped Sherlock out the back of the building without raising any suspicion and into the car back to a small abandoned office building. Anthea met them there, her Blackberry in hand as always and opened the door for the Holmes brothers. She smiled at them both as Sherlock manage to regain control over his limbs and walk himself into the building behind the older man, who was still wearing the ridiculous hat but he no longer had the coat on. He had reluctantly handed it over to Sherlock on the way out of the base he had found him in after seeing Sherlock shivering from the cold since he was still shirtless. The sweat on his torso was also making the cold even more biting.

Mycroft led the way into the building and down into the basement level then through to a small shoebox-like office where another man was waiting for them with a barber's chair in the corner. Sherlock looked between him and Mycroft before being ushered into the chair for a haircut and a shave.

"Six victims. They all died in different places but there are certain details that are similar showing they're done by the same person." Mycroft read from the file in his hand.

"Since when has this kind of stuff interested you?"

"Since one of my best men was killed by this murderer."

Half an hour later, Sherlock's hair was washed and back to the length it had been in before his apparent suicide, his face was clean-shaven, wounds treated, and wearing one of his own suits that Mycroft had had brought over for him.

"Where is it?" Sherlock asked as he tugged the hem of his suit jacket.

"Where's what?"

"Oh, you know what."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and gestured to the door where Anthea was stood holding Sherlock's coat up. Sherlock grinned and turned round to allow Anthea to slide it onto his shoulders.

It's good to be back.

They flew back to London and, instead of being allowed back to Baker street, Sherlock was taken straight to Mycroft's office.

"These are the files for the past four deaths. The first one, my worker, forty eight year old Mr Oliver Walker. On his way home from an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, this is the footage from the CCTV cameras in the surrounding areas." Mycroft turned his laptop round to face Sherlock, showing a grainy picture of a path with a park beside it. After a few seconds an average sized man with short, greasy, black hair and a sharp face walked along wearing a white tank top and faded baggy jeans. He walked through the shot without a problem and Mycroft directed Sherlock's attention to the shot beneath it, which showed the path a little further along where the park ended and there was a set of bushes. Just as Oliver Walker reached the bushes the screen cut off for just a few seconds but when the picture returned Mr Walker was gone and there was no sign of any disruption.

"Odd…" Sherlock muttered as the scene replayed itself.

"The cut out only lasts 2.5 seconds and there was no sign of any tampering in the machinery, the police have checked the scene and nothing is amiss. This was a year ago."

"And how do you know he was murdered? There could have been a malfunction in the camera and he just happened to cross the road at that moment then he went on a sudden holiday…"

"Because he was found dead two months later in the basement of Scotland Yard. His head was severed from his body."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Have you interviewed the police?"

"Of course. The only ones working that night all check out, security footage picked up nothing, no DNA left behind. The only sign left was this…" Mycroft took a picture in a plastic pack from the file, the picture was of Oliver Walker stood over a woman, who was curled up on the floor with messy hair and torn clothes. Oliver's fist was raised above his head, about to strike the woman. In his other hand was a bottle of vodka. The date on the bottom of the photograph which was printed from a camera read "15/01/13".

"One month after the picture was taken he disappeared. The picture had been checked for prints or DNA but it came back clean."

One month later, the 15th of February, which means Mr Walker went missing exactly one year after Sherlock's 'death'. That might be something to remember later.

"Abusive, this woman is clearly his girlfriend—no, fiancé. This isn't the first time he's hit her, that's evident from how she's not fighting back or trying to get away. But he only does it when he's drunk… This picture was clearly taken in their garden."

Mycroft nodded. "Five account of domestic abuse, all happened while he was under the influence of alcohol and four were on this woman. The Alcoholics Anonymous meetings are court ordered and that is his fiancé, Madison Green."

"And where is she?"

"In the ICU, after the attack in the picture their neighbours called the cops and she was rushed to the hospital, she's in a coma and the chances are she won't wake up."

Sherlock glared at the picture before putting it back down. "And the other five murders?"

The next one, victim two was a thirty two year old woman named Phoebe Roberts. She was at a party and stumbled into her friend's car for him to drive her home. Both of them disappeared and he was found with severe amnesia and she was found dead, again, with her head cut off in a bar's dumpster. Oliver's was a clean cut whereas Phoebe's was hacked off by something blunt. She was alive as this was happening and her face was frozen in horror.

Like Oliver, she wasn't innocent. She had recently been arrested for selling indecent images of her eight year old cousin, Samantha, to a group of known sex offenders. She was let go due to "lack of evidence", despite the fact they had screenshots of the emails she had sent to these men containing the images. The picture with the body was taken through a window of Phoebe Roberts taking a picture of Samantha in her underwear crying. This was in June.

The next one, 25 year old Max Evans, was using his dogs in illegal animal fighting bets. He was victim three. His head was cut off and he was left in a park with a picture of him in the fighting ring with his dogs was left there. He was taken on his way home from work in August.

Victim four was an older man, sixty four, named Dexter Jackson. He had been stealing from his daughter for the past ten years and he was found in a quarry with his head cut off and a picture of his slipping his daughter's engagement ring off her finger while she slept. This was October.

Victim five was a seventeen year old boy called Ben Wilson who had been stealing money from his sick mother to pay for weed, which he then gives to his little brother who has ADHD to 'calm him down' according to his police statement after his friend had told the cops on him. The picture was of him rolling his brother a joint. He was found in his school's basement in November.

Victim six was an eighty seven year old woman who was faking illnesses to get free drugs from the hospitals. She was found in her own basement in December. She was taken on her way home from the supermarket and the picture was of her poking her hands with a needle to give herself convincing pin-point bleeding, she was stood just round the corner from the clinic. This was in December.

All of the murders happened on the 15th of the months and they had gotten up to once a month. All the crime scenes were clean of any DNA besides the victim's and there were no witnesses and no other CCTV footage.

"Well…" Sherlock put all the files back on his brother's desk and stood, Mycroft stood too. "This shouldn't take me too long, give me a month and I'll have you culprit." He smiled and Mycroft shook his head.

"I hope you're right."

"Now, I have an old friend to see. If you need us we'll be at Baker Street. Excuse me." Sherlock turned to leave but stopped when Mycroft spoke.

"John? He's not at Baker Street. He's moved on with his life."

Sherlock frowned and turned to face him. "What life? I've been away…"

Mycroft barely managed to resist rolling his eyes and, after a few minutes of bugging him, Sherlock managed to get him to say where John would be tonight.

After a very elaborate way of making himself look like staff, he eventually revealed himself to John and his company. John reacted better than any of the expected. He grabbed the side of Sherlock's neck but instead of going to strangle him, like Sherlock expected, he pulled he taller man into a bone-crushing hug muttering 'you're back' over and over again. Sherlock smiled and hugged back.

"I'm back."


End file.
